I Can't Help It
by Let-it-lie
Summary: Canada knew that feeling this way was wrong. He also knew that he had to make his mind up, and soon. The question was, how? Onesided UKCan with USUKUS, Franada and CuCan.


**This was written to replace 'Hate to Love', which failed. ****It is basically Canada's train of thought, so is written in lots of short sentences. I know that I should be updating 'Love Simulations', but I've been really busy lately and need some time to think. Anyway, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: *Insert here the same sentence which you've read over and over again***

* * *

I can hear their laughter; see their kisses. The delicate touches that pass between them, the knowing looks. They are happy. That is good.

If someone were to ask me, although no one would, which two people were closest to me, I would have to say their names. Only because it's true, of course. I can imagine their reactions; the sympathy on their faces, if they heard me saying those things. But how would I explain it to them?

For America,

"You are my brother; we have been brothers all of our lives, and not a single person knows you as well as I do; not even your precious England. Nobody knows me as well as you do either, even if you should really pay more attention to me sometimes. You often drive me crazy; sometimes you even make me so angry that I could just kill you, yet I could never do that because you are my brother."

As if I could find the confidence to say that.

Or to England,

"You brought me up and cared for me when I was young. You and France passed me between you, not stopping to think about the effect it would have on me. You made me who I was, but never stopped to notice what you were doing. Why did I not rebel against you, as my brother did? I never had his courage, nor his confidence. You made it hard for me to leave you too. I didn't want to hurt you the way America did."

But that's not the whole truth. It would fall so easily from my lips, if only I let it.

"I love you, England. That is why I stayed by your side. I didn't want to lose you, but sometimes when I was close to you, it felt like you pretended I was America. That hurt me, but you never realised."

No. I must never speak of these things.

I know that England wants me to be happy. As a parent, I think. He never did view me as an adult in the same way that he viewed America. Fortunately, France doesn't seem to care about things like that. Even now, he has no reservations about approaching me. For some reason, England seems to encourage it. That is, when he recognises me.

Why does nobody notice me? I try not to let my nerves overtake me too often, yet somehow they always do.

I'm not sure about letting France into my world. I hold nothing against him, but sometimes I am afraid.

Afraid of him, and what he might turn me into.

I'm not sure about his motives either. If I were to date someone, I would want them to care about me. It might sound soppy, but I want my first love to be real.

Sometimes I wonder if it's perverted, being in love with my former guardians. America would say that it isn't; that we are countries, so age and memory mean nothing to us. I can't say that I agree with him, yet he seems happy enough with England.

* * *

I can see them now. America is pressed against a wall, and England is kissing him softly. They look so beautiful together; so perfect.

I wish that I was in America's position right now.

England pulls away from America, kissing him lightly on the nose, and America reaches up to touch England's face. Is it wrong that this is turning me on?

I want them to go further, but I don't think that that would be very sensible. This is a party after all.

Perhaps it wouldn't be bad though, since others seem to be doing similar things around us.

_Us._

Oh, peaceful solitude.

I'm lying as usual. I'd managed to get Japan to notice me and was talking to him when I was confronted. By _them_.

Confused? Well, _them_ is Cuba and France, both of whom seem to have developed an interest in me recently, probably because I'm single and available at a time when most countries aren't.

America is undoing the buttons on England's shirt. Everyone else is too occupied with their own romantic antics to notice them.

That is ok.

England is doing the same to America now. Is it just me, or is this some kind of silent, physical argument over who tops tonight? They take it in turns to top; I know because they've told me before when I've spent time with them, and I've walked in on them on many occasions.

I stalk them too much. I really need to stop focusing on their relationship and start focusing on my own ones. Anyway, it's perverted. Just like France. Maybe we suit each other.

* * *

Anyway, I had escaped from those two, and had just entered this room invisibly, when I caught my two 'brothers' doing this. I stayed to watch, of course.

Oh, so now the trousers are coming off. This is getting a bit too much really, especially after all the stuff England kept telling me. I mustn't stay for much longer.

Oh. I just looked around, and the scenes I see are kind of scaring me. It's time to get out of here.

I turn around and run out of the door, turning left. I look in front of me, but the first two people I see are Cuba.

As well as France.

Have they seen me? I hope not. I'm half invisible anyway. If they have seen me, I'll pretend to not have noticed them. There's a bathroom nearby, so I think I'll stop here. I need to use my brain.

* * *

It's time I got this obsession with England out of my head. It's wrong, It's not fair on America and it won't do me any good. I need to make a decision, and to make it soon.

France.

Or Cuba.

France.

Cuba.

Cuba is wonderful, when he's not beating me up. I need to teach him to tell the difference between me and America. There won't be any trouble that way. He seems to care about me more than France, once he's figured out who I am. He's always focused on me, rather than on himself. I can tell that he cares about me, and that we'd make a good pair. He isn't obsessed with sex, either.

France, however...

He knows me well, and he's less awkward to talk to. He doesn't get me confused with America, and he's very focused on securing me as his lover. Our history, however, might make things awkward for us.

America would say that it doesn't matter.

I don't care what America would say.

Oh no. They've come. They're approaching me now, together. I feel like I'm in some kind of horror film.

I can't decide.

* * *

**Cliffhanger. CuCan, or Franada? Personally I don't know, but I'd like to know what you think, and whether or not I should continue.**


End file.
